


Smile, And Maybe Tomorrow

by spacemonkey



Category: Fake News RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:07:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2748890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacemonkey/pseuds/spacemonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started with a sandwich</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile, And Maybe Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Written way back in 2008, not long after the Emmys aired

It all started with a sandwich.  
  
Jon thought that sounded like a cheesy tag line for some movie that so desperately wanted to be indie, but earned too much at the box office to be classified anything other than lame and Hollywood.  
  
But it was true. It all started with a sandwich. Turkish bread with cheddar and just the right amount of mayonnaise buried between folds of lettuce, with two slices of ham and some rindless bacon making it all worthwhile.  
  
It wasn't perfection - if they rind had been kept, it would have. Would have helped bring on a heart attack too, Tracey would always argue, so Jon settled for second best - and Stephen thought the mixture or bacon and ham was a bit too much. But Jon couldn't care less, and Stephen quickly found other things to worry about.  
  
"Is that kosher?"  
  
"The deliciousness of this sandwich has lead me to renouncing my faith. Screw kosher. And to hell with Jewish guilt too." Jon took a bite, chewed with his mouth half open and quickly swallowed when Stephen made a face. "Today? I might even forgive myself for . . . uh, pretty much everything I've ever done. Ever."  
  
"Deliciousness doesn't sound like a word."  
  
"Not a word to be thrown around lightly, my friend, that's for sure." Another bite and it was half eaten and being rewrapped.   
  
Stephen raised a simple eyebrow. "You're saving it?"  
  
"It cost me nearly ten dollars, of course I'm saving it." Jon opened a drawer, place the neatly wrapped half sandwich on top of the mess of papers and magazine clippings that resided in there, and gave Stephen a look. "So I'm still a tightass when it comes to money. Everything else Jewy is gone."  
  
"I wasn't even thinking along those lines," Stephen said and Jon didn't believe him. Five hours later, when both their shows were taped and Jon discovered a toothy bite had been taken out of his sandwich, Stephen played innocent. Jon didn't believe him then either.  
  
It took all of two days for Stephen to suggest they have lunch together. Jon didn't find it that odd - sure they'd already done lunch that week and usually met up maybe every two, but a change in pace had never killed anyone. That Jon knew of.   
  
They'd grab a pizza, shoot the shit and try not to think about coming up with something impressive for the Emmys, even though they really should.  
  
Jon had it all planned in four seconds flat. Stephen ruined those plans in twelve, suggesting that maybe they should go out.  
  
"But that would involve leaving the premises."  
  
"Well, I already have to, to walk over there. That's not really fair on me, Jon."  
  
"Okay, so I come there then."  
  
"And leave the premises? You'd have to be crazy! But while you're out there, you might as well meet me halfway."  
  
 _Click_  went the phone as Stephen hung up, and Jon smirked. He'd figured it out, easy, and when they did meet halfway and Stephen casually mentioned the ten dollar sandwich that was near perfection, Jon acted aghast.  
  
"You mean you didn't have enough the other day?"  
  
"I still claim innocence," was all Stephen said, and it took another five minutes to walk there. It was a little cafe in the midst of other cafe's and bars and gang hideouts, all of which screamed health violation to Jon. But this café, simply called "Ma's" like approximately 47,000 other café’s in the city, looked clean and smelt like vanilla. Perhaps they had vanilla scented candles lit in the back to hide the scent of rat shit, Jon didn't know or care. All he knew was that he hadn't seen a single roach yet, and that the sandwiches were delicious.  
  
"Good, huh," he said as Stephen washed down the last of his sandwich with an overpriced bottle of orange juice.  
  
"Could have used some rind on the bacon," Stephen replied after swallowing, and Jon nodded and finished his own rindless masterpiece.  
  
It took a week until they ended up back there, Stephen getting a soda instead of orange juice because it was cheaper, and the week after that he got a coffee. Jon stuck to water, bottled and not cheap, but it was good for him. Whatever that meant. Tracey had been on a health kick for the last thirty five years or so, and Jon was desperate to follow that kick, if only to ultimately fail.  
  
The next week, they were in LA wishing sandwiches only cost ten dollars, and Jon and Stephen hugged each other tight when they won their awards, whispered congratulations in an ear or two, and got completely shitfaced at the party's that followed. Jon faintly recalled Gervais talking about pissing in a sink, or maybe he was just remembering an interview they'd done, but he couldn't remember much else. Perhaps Stephen sat next to him at one point and bitched about Howie Mandel, or perhaps Jon completely fabricated that memory.  
  
It was one of the many joys of alcohol, along with splitting headaches and waking up in bed with someone who wasn't your wife. Both of which Jon had to deal with the next morning.  
  
"I don't know either," was Stephen's answer as he pulled a shoe on. "Maybe my room was too far away."  
  
It seemed feasible and Evie was only a little pissed off. Tracey found it funny when Jon called her just before he got on the plane, laughing until he had to go, and they ended on "love you"'s and "tell the kids I'll be home in a couple of hours".   
  
They met up for lunch on a Wednesday the next week, a day earlier than usual, and Stephen paid for the both of them, and a soda for Jon because "screw the diet".  
  
"It's not a diet, it's just a . . . it's a diet," Jon admitted as they left, waving goodbye to who he assumed was Pa. It took a total of fourteen hours before it hit him, and Jon found himself in the kitchen, smack bang in the middle of the night, munching on this sugary cereal that Nate insisted was "yummy", lamenting about the realization he'd had a few minutes prior.  
  
Stephen had paid. Stephen had paid for the lunch that they share weekly. "It's a date," Jon muttered through a mouthful of sugary mush. A date. And what was worse was - Stephen had  _paid_.  
  
"A date and I'm the girl." Jon got up and poured himself another bowl, fighting the urge to plant his face in the heated milk.  
  
The next few days were weird, and the weekly trip to Ma's was weirder with Jon keeping to himself and not wanting to talk about it when Stephen gently asked and looked concerned. Finally, Jon changed the subject to Sarah Palin's stance on abortion, and it was a good twenty minutes before anything else was important.  
  
"Have a good show, Jon," Stephen said as they parted ways, grinning and causing Jon to smile back. "I knew I'd get you to smile somehow," he added as he walked away, and that stayed with Jon for a good two days, because Stephen hadn't even  _done_  anything and still he'd come out on top.  
  
They started doing lunch twice a week after that, Stephen specifically asking for rind in both their sandwiches, which lead to a movie night with beer and pizza.  
  
"I know what you've been thinking," Stephen said halfway through the movie.  
  
"That Bruce Willis will never top John McClane?"  
  
". . . Sure."  
  
"Or did you mean in general."  
  
Stephen just smiled. He watched the screen carefully, and Jon waited for an answer then gave up after twenty minutes and went back to the movie. "I'm kind of sick of those sandwiches, to be honest," Stephen said finally.  
  
It wasn't really what Jon had been expecting, and he sat open mouthed for a minute or two. "I don't understand how you could be sick of a sandwich that good."  
  
"I have been for a while now."  
  
"Then why-"  
  
"Jon, you're smarter then this. Watch the movie."  
  
Jon chose to silently freak out instead, but when Stephen suggested they meet up at Ma's the next day with a small smile on his face, Jon didn't hesitate to say yes.  
  
"Knew I'd get you to smile," Stephen said as he walked down the hall and Jon laughed, and then found himself eating Nate's cereal five hours later. He'd come to the conclusion that he was sick of the sandwiches as well, but the sugary crap in front of him was the best comfort food  _ever_.


End file.
